Metallurgy
by CiaraMaddenA
Summary: Beck, the rhythm guitarist of a metal band called TORQUE, is in the throws of her early 20s and nothing is off the table: music, sex, and the existential thrill of having no idea what to do with her future. She and her bandmates have a lot of learning to do, but their family of friends is out to keep them sane.


Beck's forehead had become sticky with heat. Public transportation had its perks, but waiting outside in the summer was not one of them. Nonetheless, she had no access to a car and it was the most convenient way to get around. She cranked the volume on her music, slicking back the only half of her head that was scraggled with dark, chin length hair. _This hot at six in the friggin morning? Ugh. Thank God for sound cancellation. _Anything to drown out the temperature or her mind's persistent nagging.

Last night's conversation reverberated in her head over the now aggressive grind of distorted guitar. Why? Would it not have been easier to just wait things out before accepting another gig? She had to hand it to her mother: she had drive. Though, what kind Beck wasn't precisely sure. She most certainly was not reaping the benefits of her parent's career. Beck's student loans had racked up before she had begun to count them and now she was considering quitting altogether just to start working and make the money back. Groaning under the weight of her internal monologue, she shifted, pressed the volume up button another tick on her phone and clamped her jaw tightly together. Her fingers found the fringe of her blue cotton tank top with the word 'TORQUE' scrawled in white across its front and she fidgeted it. Realizing what she was doing, she flicked her hand and grunted in irritation. _Fucking stop it. There is nothing you can do about it. She is going to do whatever she wants._ A gruff rapping on her shoulder yanked her from herself. She bolted, rigid in her seat, and stared up into the face of the disruptor.

"Are you planning to come by tonight?" She hadn't heard him say this, of course. The headphones she was wearing had done their job. Beck swiped them from her skull and glared up at the slender veil of her neighbor, Salem. He stood tall, bits of the black mop on his head were clinging to his labor tanned skin. Half of a breakfast bar dangled from his hand. Beck's eyes instinctively scanned his chest for Buttercup, but she must have hidden herself safely away from the heat somewhere.

"What?" She spat.

"Are you. Planning. To come by. Tonight." He lulled in return. She shrugged and slumped back into the bench.

"I don't know yet." The corner of his mouth twitched, suppressing a knowing grin. Something was up, but she'd tell him if she wanted to, he supposed. His tell grated further on her anxiety.

"Well, text me after class so I can snag us some food if you're gonna come. I've got a lot of shit to unload from the truck, so I'll be up there late either way." He shot her a two fingered salute, glanced both ways up the street, and j-walked to the opposing sidewalk. She watched him disappear into an alleyway with disgruntlement, replacing the headphones on her ears and cranking her music for the third time. An anguished sigh escaped her.

She and Salem's afternoon routine was an old one. Three or four days a week, she would make her way to his pet shop after her welding classes got out. Well... technically 'his' shop belonged to his parents, but they were expanding to two new locations simultaneously, so he was often left to tend the location closest to their home of the last 27 years. This meant the space was his to do with as he pleased. He was a good worker, no doubt, but there was enough downtime between foot traffic jams that inviting Beck by to hang out for a portion of the late work day made things feel less tedious. People were only in the market for an exotic pet so often, after all. Most customers were there for guinea pigs or hamsters, feeder mice for their snakes, or other quick-grab provisions. When Salem wasn't helping someone check out, the duo would relax in the rear storage room where he had set up a temporary leisure space. They'd play their guitars, watch shit horror movies, or maybe mess with the old ZATAR console while he lazily checked the shop cameras on his cellphone. She liked going by the shop. It saw its busiest hours when she first arrived, around five or so, but usually got quiet after seven. She could then peruse the aisles, periodically draping her shoulders with a reptile, and stay safely away from her house for as long as possible. Any excuse not to be home was a good one. Beck even stayed after their lollygagging to help Sal feed the animals before he locked up. They would then walk back to their neighboring houses together for convenience and company.

Beck mused over their redundant social rhythm for a moment before glancing at the time on her phone screen. The bus was still on schedule, but her anticipation of its arrival was causing the time to drag. She smothered her phone in her pocket, clapping her heel on the pavement impatiently. _It's 6:17am and I am done with today._

The bus pulled up to the stop a few minutes past her tantrum, she took up her tan messenger bag from beside the bench, boarded, and occupied the seat immediately behind the driver. She had that luxury thanks to her stop's proximity to the start of the day's route. The driver was unfamiliar today. Beck felt a pang of disappointment. She always looked forward to chatting with Rick in the morning. He was much older than she, she guessed in his mid forties, but they had a surprising amount of rapport. Rick was big into video games, specifically an MMO they both played. She surmised he was either at about her skill level or perhaps even better. They played different factions on different servers, though, so there wasn't much of an opportunity to play together. Neither wanted to leave their respective guilds simply for the sake of the comradery they provided. She had ten years' seasoned, international friendships there. It wouldn't be worth leaving that behind for her local bus driver in his forties. But still, the talking point was always engaging. It wasn't often she got the chance to swap raid and PvP stories with near strangers.

She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Maybe she could manage a nap before they got to campus. The sound of the suburban monotony aided her cause and quickly she was resting in the world of half dreaming. Her stop arrived just as quickly as her concept of time was rushed by sleep. She collected her things and made for the welding shop. The campus was large enough that it wasn't unreasonable for people to take their vehicles to and from classes. Again, though, Beck had no such privilege. Fortunate for her circumstances, she was able to arrive early enough and her classes were spaced widely enough that she did not have to rush from one location to the other. She strode briskly that morning only to escape the heat wave. Upon glancing at her surroundings, she noticed she was not alone in this. Many students were skirting the line of jogging so they could be welcomed into the conditioned air as quickly as possible.

The lab building loomed. Her friend Mads was sitting on the ground outside the shop's garage door rifling through their backpack. They wore a white cotton tee with blue jeans. It was welding day, after all. Their dark brown hair was bundled up in a knot on the back of their head. Beck's heart sank when she realized what Mads being there implied.

"Is it locked?" She called from some distance away. Mads looked up.

"Yup." They shouted back. Beck slowed her pace. No need to accrue any more sweat than she already carried.

"We still have almost an hour. I guess Shalhoub isn't here yet." Mads' volume declined as Beck approached, "At least there's shade."

"I guess, but it's not doing much for me," Beck looked up at the cement awning above them, "It is hot as_ shit_ outside." She chucked her bag against the wall and flopped spread-eagled onto her back, propping her head against the now crumpled sack. Mads huffed out a laugh.

"Jesus, don't be so dramatic. You'll live."

"I've been outside in this hellscape since 5:30. It's what," Beck glanced at an imaginary wristwatch, "7:15 now?"

"You were on the bus for like forty-five minutes of that."

"… It's a public bus, Mads, not a fucking Rolls." 

"Whatever, dude." Mads stopped mid chuckle and swatted Beck playfully on the shoulder with the back of their hand, "Oh! Hey- did you see that Clinick got a Handlebar gig?" Beck sprung up, entirely unphased by the friendly violence.

"No way! We've been trying to book that place for like six months!" She gawked.

"I know! I talked with Jay and he said they had a band drop out of the October punk show and they were able to squeeze in first."

"That fucker…" Beck clenched and unclenched her teeth before slipping onto her back once more, "Oh well. Our band wouldn't have fit for a punk show, but man- I am _dying _to play there."

"I'm dying to _see _you guys play there. Their light show is always crazy good."

"Yeah." They sat briefly in silence together before the silhouette of their teacher, Dr. Shalhoub, could be seen slinking towards them. He was short, nearly forty, and unnaturally thin. Beck always caught herself staring at the odd angles his cheek bones seemed to make while he was lecturing. His leather welding coat and gloves made him look like a scarecrow. His welding helmet was black and bore no artistic designs. Beck had wondered about this early in her classes as it was common to decorate or customize your helmet. She thought it rude to ask him about it, so she never did, but her curiosity in the matter went unsatisfied for long enough that she eventually looked up its price tag. At a whopping $2,500.00 with plenty of bells and whistles, she probably wouldn't deface it either. Though, she supposed, that's what the college could afford you in his position. Lucky.

"Hey, sorry I'm a bit late. You guys out here long?" He grumbled.

"No." They replied in unison.

"Good." He knelt, reaching to the back loop of his jeans where an abundant keyring swung heavily. As though he didn't have to consider it at all, he flipped to the correct key, slid it into the padlock, and popped it open. He then unfastened the chain, tossed it to the side, gripped the bottom of the steel door with both hands and yanked it upward. It clattered loudly along its track, causing a few passersby to glance over in alarm. Their mouse-like nervousness always made Beck smile.

"Go ahead and suit up. We're doing TIG again today." He said, making his way between the two rows of benches and up to the solitaire at the front of the shop. Beck noted he was rubbing his left shoulder absent mindedly. _Maybe he slept wrong or something. _It was in the middle of this thought that Mads jabbed their elbow painfully into Beck's side. Beck suppressed an exclamation and shot them a dirty look. Mads inclined their head in the teacher's direction. A white hospital band was fastened around his right wrist. Mads bared their teeth and raised their eyebrows. _Yeah, that's why I fucking nudged you. _Beck understood Mads' expression and replied with her own. _Whoa, what is that? _They shrugged back. _Who knows?_ Mads was now browsing the coat and glove rack in a conspicuously casual way for their own preferred leather protective wear. Beck glanced from their perusement to the teacher again before tossing her bag over to one of the two benches closest to the front. There wasn't much she could do without asking him impolitely what had happened. It was time to move on. 

Six other classmates trickled in. Each of them went through the motions: grab coat, grab gloves, set up helmet as needed, double check the welding electrode, insert electrode into collet, review the materials on the bench to be welded, set aside any materials which need to be ground down before welding, adjust settings on heating element to whatever each student thinks is correct for welding said materials, wait for instruction. Shalhoub checked each bench before they began their welds, ensuring that all settings were correct, explaining any deviations, and ensuring there were no potential hazards in the student's setup. God forbid someone set themselves on fire or inhale toxic chemicals. It had happened before, he said, to students who weren't paying sufficient attention. There was a chemical shower in the shop, vents for redirecting hazardous fumes, and multiple fire extinguishers within reaching distance of the benches, but still… The thought of her skin searing into flame or inhaling a potentially lethal dose of chemical gas was enough to keep Beck, at least, cautious. Some of her fellow classmates weren't so cautious. She stayed far away from their benches whenever possible which was easy to do since they mostly sat at the farthest end of the garage.

They were working with stainless steel today. Beck was still trying to smooth out the beading aesthetic, the furling rainbow of melted metal, on her TIG welds and took her sweet time. Others finished more quickly, the sparks surrounding their workstations suddenly going dark, their hands shooting into the air to signal Shalhoub to come inspect their workmanship. Beck always admired the pace at which Mads operated. They were a welding genius working quickly, quietly, and correctly. Shalhoub hardly ever had to provide notes when he looked over the fresh seam of molten materials. As a result, Mads was often permitted to leave the shop early. Sometimes they would take advantage of this, sometimes they would come keep Beck company. Beck was grateful for this time as Mads would provide helpful tidbits while she worked. 

"Hey- check the angle of the rod, you're looking a little straight." Their hands gently guided Beck's elbow into the right position. This caused the heated end of the electrode to pivot to a fifteen degree angle. Hesitating for a moment, Beck shut off the rod and froze. She tried her best to retain the new position.

"Oh, thanks! So like this?"

"Yeah, just be sure you're coming at it from an angle or it's gonna look ugly."

Beck was soon finished with the scrap metal she had available for the day. She and Mads removed their protective gear, picked up their belongings, said a quick goodbye to Shalhoub then headed for the student center. They took turns dramatically fanning each other with notebooks as they walked. Nothing quite like wearing long sleeved leather garb during the summer. Once they had made it out of earshot, Mads hissed: "So what do you think happened to him?"

"I have no idea." Beck said, remembering the hospital band and shaking her head, "It looked like he was rubbing his shoulder when we came in."

"Do you remember which shoulder?"

"I think it was his left."

Mads seemed to consider this, "Do you think it was related to his circulation or something?"

"What? I don't know. Why circulation?"

"That's the side that will hurt if you have heart problems. I'm sure he's fine. He's obviously getting treatment for whatever it is. Not like we could do anything about it anyway." They had arrived at the dining hall and took a seat alongside a glass wall which looked out over the campus' main sidewalk, "You got plans this afternoon?" Beck's mouth was already stuffed with the sandwich she'd brought. She swallowed painfully, thumped herself on the chest, coughed.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to meet up with Salem at the shop, but I don't know if I really want to be social." She said and took another bite. A slab of bread stuck inconveniently to the roof of her mouth. Her tongue pressed into her palette, attempting to scrape away the tacky starch. Mads was browsing the available meal options. The hall was oriented much like a food court in the mall. From where the two were seated, lit signs advertising each restaurant were visible. For the briefest moment, Mads looked honestly concerned.

"Oh. Is everything ok? Wait- actually, tell me when I get back. I _need _tacos." They rose and made for the Mexican street food stand. Beck grunted disapproval at their parting. Mid-munch, she stared down at the food in her hands. She felt tired. Her mother's antics were suddenly stirring back up in her head. Any pause in activity was a new opportunity for her mind to drag her mood through the mud. Maybe it _would_ be good to go relax at the pet shop even if she wasn't really feeling it. Salem knew her well enough, after all, to acknowledge when she wasn't up for much. It would keep her away from the house for a while longer too.

"They have a new shrimp taco if that's your cuppa- whoa, you alright?" Mads slid their food tray onto the table and sat, "Did someone just come by and yell at you or something? Damn." Beck forced a half smile.

"Yeah, no, sorry. I just feel tired."

"What? No, what is the matter?" Mads' grey eyes locked on Beck's brown ones. They then crammed half of a corn tortilla in their mouth. Beck sputtered.

"Nothing is wrong, you're just dumb as hell." She chuffed. Mads threw up their hands, unintentionally slinging tortilla fragments to the floor. Beck howled. Mads cursed through their mouthful and swiped a napkin from the tabletop dispenser to pick up the pieces. Beck rested her chin in her hand, patiently observing the hall's new janitor.

"Rude." Said Mads as they chucked the crumb filled napkin in a nearby garbage can, "And you're (successfully) avoiding my question."

"Doesn't look like I'm successful since you're clearly still asking." Said Beck. Her fingertips drummed her cheek. Mads squinted at her suspiciously and took a large chomp of their shrimp taco.

"Alright, I'm gonna let this go, but know that I'm not happy about it and that you should feel better about… whatever it is."

"Sure, Mads, I'll get right on that." Beck felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She nabbed it.

_**SalemV**__**11:24am**_

_Don't forget to tell me if you're coming later._

"Whmoo's vat?" Mads managed through their Mexican.

"Sal."

_**Me 11:24am**_

_Go away_

_**SalemV 11:25am**_

_Fuck you_

_If you forget, I'm going to lock you out._

_**Me 11:25am**_

_Cool story_

Beck smiled at her phone. Mads smiled at Beck.


End file.
